Under His Mother's Wing - PewDiepie Fanfic
by ArtistForever
Summary: Every great hero has their origin, even if it's something they never relive except in their own dreams. Stephano revisits the long-forgotten memory of his childhood, and many old scars are opened. Rated T
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The world of Amnesia was destined from day one to be the atmospheric, nightmare-inducing environment we all know today. However, that doesn't mean it has no origin. What if, somewhere hidden deep within its code, there was a time when the castle was an entirely different entity? Surely there must be. After all, every great thing has its history; that one thread of instances, be them good or bad, which lead to its greatness in the end. Of course, some come out of these histories less damaged than others…but all have them, nonetheless.

* * *

The dim torchlight glinted off of the metallic skin and clothing of the golden Egyptian warrior named Stephano as he led his young companion through the corridors of the grim castle known as Brennenburg. The companion, a blonde young Swedish man, held up a lantern and looked about with a pattern of fear printed on his face. He hid a bit behind his golden guardian as the ceiling above them creaked loudly.

"What was that?!" The man put out his lantern in a moment of panic.

Stephano sighed, slightly annoyed at his friend's cowardice. "It was nothing, Pewdie." He said in a peculiar French accent.

Pewdie straightened up and casually brushed back his bangs. "Y-Yeah, I knew that." He quickly re-lit the lantern with a tinderbox.

Stephano raised his eyebrow, amused, and rolled his eyes. "Keep it down, will you? We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves."

"Sorry." Pewdie whispered, beginning to tip-toe as Stephano led him on. "Where to now?"

"Why not down there?" Stephano pointed down a second hallway branching out from the one they were in.

Pewdie looked down and saw a smeared trail of blood leading into the darkness of the hall. He looked at Stephano with a raised eyebrow. "You sure about that, bro?" He asked suspiciously.

Stephano had a mischievous habit of intentionally pointing him in the direction he knew would lead to a jump scare or a poofer (a hallucination of a monster that would disappear in a cloud of smoke). The two of them had almost not become friends because of this; most notably because the first time they had met, Stephano had intentionally pointed him into a room that contained a Grunt. The encounter had almost cost Pewdie his life, and Stephano promised he would never pull a serious prank like that again.

"It's safe, I swear." Stephano pointed down the hallway again.

Pewdie's trust in him didn't seem to be getting any stronger. "Fine, but _you_ go see if it really _is_ safe first."

Stephano tilted his head back and sighed. "You idiot." He muttered as he began to follow the blood trail into the darkness.

The hallway didn't appear to be dangerous, it was short and ended in a dead end; no monsters in sight. "It's safe, Pewds." Stephano called over his shoulder.

The blonde Swede happily trotted down to the end of the hallway to meet his friend. "Well…" He said in dismay, observing the useless pile of boxes in the corner. "This was a waste of time." Just then, his lantern light illuminated a small chest sitting behind the crates. "Oh, sweet! Secret stuff!"

Stephano watched as Pewdie set down his lantern and hopped over the crates. He knelt to open the chest, vanishing momentarily, before coming back up holding a bottle of sanity potion. "Hey, look." He chuckled as he turned back to Stephano. "I guess this wasn't a total waste after al-." Pewdie's voice trailed off as he looked up from his prize.

"Pewdie?" Stephano asked with concern, seeing the far-off look in his friend's eyes. They weren't focused on him; they were focused on something…behind him.

"Hello, PewDiepie." A voice very similar to Stephano's echoed off the walls.

"Oh, no." Stephano thought with a groan as he turned to see a figure standing at the end of the hallway, casting a long shadow across the ground.

"And," The darkened figure continued, malice rising in its voice. "Hello to you, too, Brother."

"Gonzales." Stephano snarled as the shadow stepped closer, allowing the lantern to reflect off the silver complexion of Stephano's twin brother.

"It's nice to see you two again," The words rolled off of Gonzales's French dialect. "But I'm afraid our meeting has to be brief."

Stephano held his arm out protectively in front of Pewdie. "Stay back, Pewds." He warned, nudging his best friend behind him.

Pewdie shrank back, not thinking twice about using Stephano as a shield. This wasn't the first time he had met Gonzales; he wasn't soon to forget the day the silver duplicate had posed as Stephano to lure him into a trap designed by the ones he referred to as his "Masters". Who were these "Masters" of his? Pewdie hadn't been surprised to discover they were none other than the Barrels themselves. Of course; who else could it be? Gonzales had seen Pewdie cower behind Stephano, and his mouth curled up in a sadistic smirk.

"No use hiding behind your friend, Pewdie." Gonzales said forebodingly. The silver Egyptian warrior slowly unsheathed his sword and ran his fingers up the length of its edge. "You see, I've been given specific orders from my Masters to kill you; and I don't intend to let anything…or anyone…stand in my way."

Gonzales cast a sideways glare at Stephano, who narrowed his eyes in anger. "If you want him, then get through _me_ first!" Stephano growled at his brother, pulling his sword from its scabbard.

Gonzales sneered. "Alright, then." He took up a stance and aimed his sword at his brother. "I will."

Gonzales's cold silver eyes suddenly came alive as a burning, manic look came over him, melting away the cool, collected demeanor he had just seconds before. He lunged ruthlessly at his brother, swinging his sword with as much force as he could muster. The sibling's weapons clashed with a spark as Stephano fended off his brother's bloodthirsty attack. Again and again his murderous brother slashed at him, and each time he was able to dodge and deflect the blade.

The two brothers proved themselves to be matched equally in swordplay, but neither of them refused to give in to the other. Stephano knew Gonzales wouldn't end his attack until someone was dead; he knew all too well that his brother had carried out many brutal assassinations under the order of the Barrels. Unable to land a hit, Stephano knew of the only other way to escape his corrupted brother.

Stephano paused, feigning exhaustion as he watched his brother closely. Gonzales, his confidence growing to the point of carelessness, raised his sword with one hand rather than two, preparing to lower it into Stephano's shoulder. Wrong move. As soon as the opening came, Stephano thrust is weapon at his brother, violently knocking the silver blade from his hand and tearing a deep cut across his palm.

Gonzales cried out and gripped his wrist as crimson liquid began to spill from it. His sword fell to the ground and skidded loudly across the stones before coming to a halt at Stephano's feet. The golden warrior quickly picked it up and faced Gonzales, now wielding both of their weapons. Gonzales snarled at his brother, bleeding and furious that his mission had failed. Stephano pointed both weapons at his brother threateningly.

"Get. Out." He demanded in a soft, monotone voice.

Gonzales's crazed look of fury passed from Stephano, to Pewdie (who by now had taken cover behind the crates), then back to Stephano. Slowly the manic fire faded from his eyes, and he backed slowly out of the hallway with the same look of calmness he had entered it in. Within minutes, he was out of sight and the sound of his footsteps faded away. Stephano and Pewdie both sighed, relieved that they were finally out of danger. Stephano glanced over his shoulder at Pewdie, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Why the hell do I always have to save your sorry ass?" He asked as he tossed his brother's sword into the corner. He carefully returned his own weapon into its holster. "I swear to God, you wouldn't last a day in this place without me."

"You little…" Pewdie sounded offended, but his voice trailed off. "Yeah, you're probably right."

The two friends chuckled as Stephano helped Pewdie back onto his feet. Pewdie looked at the blade lying in the corner.

"That was _so_ cool the way you did that!" He exclaimed. "Do you think he'll come back for it?"

"He will eventually," Stephano shrugged as they began to leave the hallway. "But only after we've gone."

Pewdie laughed out loud. "Uh oh, looks like someone's scared of getting his ass whopped by Big Brother!"

"Actually," Stephano corrected him as they walked on. "He's the older one. Older by five minutes, if I recall."

"Man, that just makes it suck worse!" Pewdie grinned. "God, I can only imagine how it was for you to have a brother like _that_ growing up."

"So can I." Stephano said flatly.

"Huh?" Pewdie gave him an odd look.

"Gonzales and I," Stephano explained slowly, as if he were choosing his words very carefully. "We…weren't together…for very long."

"What?" This was news to Pewdie. "Why?"

Stephano closed his eyes, as if trying to block out an unpleasant thought. "Let's just say…we were separated…when we were very young."

"What happened?" His companion asked innocently.

Stephano shot Pewdie a hostile look. "We were separated. End of story."

Pewdie recoiled a bit at his friend's scowl. "S-Sorry, bro." He apologized in a hushed voice.

Seeing his friend's alarm, Stephano suddenly realized how angry he had sounded, and his expression softened. "It's alright." He muttered, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

A bright light stung the duo's eyes as they rounded a corner. Once their vision adjusted, the outline of a door at the end of the hallway became visible, it's outline haloed in a beaming white light. The exit, what they'd been looking for the past hour. Stephano placed a hand on Pewdie's shoulder. The Swede looked up at him, still looking a bit disturbed by his friend's outburst. Stephano gave him a reassuring grin.

"You did well today, Pewdie." He said. "I cannot come with you now, I'm so sorry; but I'll be here the next time you choose to visit, alright?"

Pewdie returned Stephano's smile and nodded.

"Great," Stephano looked towards the door. "Now let's get you home."

Pewdie put out his lantern and placed it on the ground. As he took out the exit key and opened the doorway to a wall of shimmering light, he took a moment to stop and wave goodbye to Stephano. The golden warrior playfully rolled his eyes and waved back. The Swede disappeared into the gleaming white haze and the door slammed shut behind him, signaling the end of the outsider's visit. As soon as the door closed, Stephano ran his hand slowly down his face, moaning deeply in his throat. Another day completed, another job well done on his part.

Stephano pulled back the curtains of a nearby window and gazed wearily at the moon sailing atop the clouds over the castle. The realization of how late it was, combined with the physical and mental stress of the day, caused fatigue to fall over him like a downpour of rain. With a quick stretch and a heavy yawn, the golden man began his retreat into the residential wing of the castle, in search of a comfortable place to sleep.

The castle was often at its most dangerous after dark, but Stephano knew his way around. It didn't take him long to scout out an open bedroom door and slip inside, throwing the lock shut behind him. The room was in disarray, the bedside table overturned and the curtains torn to shreds, but it didn't faze him. It hadn't for quite a while.

Stephano pulled back the dusty covers and sat on the edge of the bed, almost forgetting to remove the scabbard from around his waist. With a sigh he kicked off his curved, Arabian-style shoes and arranged them neatly aside. Lastly, he removed his hijab (the headpiece he always wore), letting long strands of his golden hair to fall over his shoulders. Very few people had ever seen him without his headpiece; he didn't want anyone to comment on the somewhat feminine length of his hair. He would never cut it, no matter what anyone would say, it was against his beliefs to do so.

Stephano paused a moment to stare at the golden cloth in his hands. His mind hadn't stopped churning since Pewdie had asked him about his childhood. Even then, the voice of his naïve friend echoed in his thoughts: "Why? What happened?"

Stephano set his headpiece carefully next to his shoes and sighed deeply. "I wish I could tell you, Pewdie," He said under his breath. "But you'd think less of me if I did."

Hitting the pillows a few times to soften them, Stephano settled down underneath the covers and closed his eyes. Within minutes, his spinning thoughts had quieted, and he had drifted off into a serene sleep; but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, a scene began to materialize inside his mind's eye, becoming clearer and clearer with each passing second. He began to toss and turn, trying to erase the thoughts that even now his fitful mind was conjuring up, but still the images grew more realistic.

A voice, a muffled, hushed voice, began to accompany the scene, growing louder and clearer along with it. It said nothing, and belonged to no one…but it was still there. Stephano laid there in bed, trying his hardest to ignore everything and return to unconsciousness; but suddenly he was lost to it, lost to the dream and everything it held. In his sleep, he was somewhere else entirely; at another place, in a different time, but where or when it was…at first he couldn't say.

He felt the warm palm of another person brush over his cheek, and the phantom voice became clear was a bell, speaking softly next to his ear. The sweet, melodic voice of a woman came from the darkness behind his closed eyes. Just before he completely gave into the dream, just before he assumed the role the vision had assigned him, Stephano realized he was not just entering a dream…he was entering a memory. A memory he had not visited in a very long time.

"Stephano," The woman's voice crooned softly into his ear. "It's morning, baby; time to wake up now."

Stephano blinked open his eyes. He recognized the walls and floor of the Back Hall around him, and he noticed the small cotton blanket he had cocooned himself in; but first and foremost, he noticed the tall woman kneeling beside him, her hand on his cheek. Her skin was the same metallic gold as his was, and so was the Egyptian-style dress she wore. Her hair was long, and her eyes were bordered with black, painted designs. On her head, she wore a copper headdress decorated with hanging beads of turquoise; and from just below her shoulder blades, two horizontal wings sprouted, golden, yet painted over with a pattern of blue and green. She was a statue of the Egyptian goddess Isis, whom Alexander had placed at the top of the Back Hall's grand staircase, and was notably one of the castle most stunning fixtures.

Stephano rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes with a tiny hand and sat up in his bed of blankets on the floor. Taking another look around, he saw that his bed hadn't moved far from its place underneath the staircase. The large library doors stood nearby, and as Stephano looked in their directions, his attention was caught by another bundle of blankets laying close up against him. He felt the warmth of the bundle next to him, and he could help but giggle at the still-sleeping person within them. Without warning, he threw himself onto the blankets.

"Gotch'a!" He cried in an enthusiastic young voice.

The blankets yelped in protest, and the silver figure inside wriggled its way out and leapt on its brother in retaliation. The two wrestled for a few short seconds, giggling as they rolled around on the floor haphazardly, before Isis's voice gathered their attention.

"Boys, please don't roughhouse." She warned the twins at her feet. "Someone might get hurt if no one's careful."

Stephano, who had just pinned Gonzales to the floor, climbed off his brother in reluctant obedience. "Yes, Mommy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Gonzales frowned at his brother behind his back. He raised a clenched fist, ready to strike his brother while he was distracted.

"Gonzales, what did I just say?" Isis gave her son a stern look.

"He started it!" The seven-year-old pointed at his brother.

"That doesn't mean you should continue it."

"Yeah, Gonzo," Stephano sneered. "Don't start anything!"

Gonzales wasted no time in tackling Stephano to the ground. Isis sighed and ran a tired hand down her face as her boys continued their tussle. It was innocent enough, just some harmless wrestling between siblings; but it became apparent to Stephano that he wasn't going to throw Gonzales off of him any time soon. Looking around for anything to give him the upper hand, he spotted two objects gleaming nearby.

Grinning mischievously, Stephano slowly reached for them. His advance may have been subtle, but it was enough to alert his mother as to what he was doing. Isis had him by the collar of his tunic within seconds, and she pulled him out from under Gonzales in even less time.

"What do you think you're doing?" Isis pulled Stephano to his feet, sounding very upset.

"I…uh…" Stephano didn't have any defense. He knew exactly why he was in trouble.

Isis released her son and immediately went to the two glinting objects he had been reaching for. Her painted metal wings dragged the floor behind her as she crossed the floor; she usually kept them lowered, it wasn't like she could really use them. Isis snatched up the items lying in a heap beside the family's sleeping place. Two large, beautifully crafted swords - one solid gold, the other pure silver - appeared in each of her hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to touch these?" Isis scolded, addressing both brothers at once.

"I didn't do anything!" Gonzales stood in protest.

"This goes for _both_ of you!" Isis's golden eyes narrowed. She turned and, rather furiously, threw the weapons as far as she could beneath the staircase. "I don't want either of you going near those things, am I understood?"

Stephano and Gonzales nodded in unison, knowing full well how fierce their mother was when she was angered.

"Good." Isis sighed, the 'joys' of motherhood beginning to wear on her.

"But, Mommy?" Gonzales piped up after a short silence. "Why aren't we allowed to play with Daddy's presents?"

Isis glanced down at her sons. Stephano could have sworn he saw a look of resentment cross his mother's face at the mention of his father, but she seemed to try and hide it.

"Because, Gonzales," Isis calmly tried to explain. "If you ever play with them, someone might see you."

"Is that a bad thing?" Stephano asked, peeking past his mother at the presents he and his brother had been given a year ago for their sixth birthday. He had been so excited to get such a grown-up gift, and he wasn't exactly happy to be banned from using it.

"Yes…well, no…but," Isis sighed, her attempt at making her sons understand obviously failing. "It's just very important that no one ever sees you play with them."

"Why?" Gonzales asked, tilting his head to the side.

Isis put on a smile and chuckled, meaning she had given up trying to explain herself. "I'll tell you when you're both older."

Stephano and Gonzales looked at each other; both of them shared the same puzzled and slightly disappointed look. Isis knelt down and kissed both of them on their foreheads. "Can you boys at least promise me you won't ever play with them?"

"Why?" The twins asked in unison, this time trying more to annoy their mother rather than get answers.

Isis pressed her lips together, swallowing the urge to get cross with them. "Because I said so." She said in a serious parental tone.

"Okay." The brothers both nodded in appeasing agreement, shying away slightly.

"That's my boys." Isis hugged her sons close to her, wrapping her metallic wings around them. Slowly she stood, holding their tiny hands in hers. "Mommy has to go now. Remember to stay together and don't leave the Hall. I'll be back in a few hours."

Stephano let his mother release his hand as she turned to leave, but Gonzales (being the mama's boy he was) grasped onto Isis's fingers as she tried to pull away.

"Do you have to?" Gonzales whined. "Can't you stay here with us?"

"Oh, baby." Isis bent down and adjusted her son's silver hijab. "It's only for a little bit. I'll be home soon, and I'll bring you back something good to eat. Okay, deal?"

Stephano saw tears brimming in his brother's eyes as he threw his arms around their mother's neck.

"But what if you never come back?" Gonzales whimpered. Stephano rolled his eyes at the display.

Isis patted her son's head comfortingly. Gonzales's fears were warranted; Brennenburg wasn't the nicest place to live, nor was it the safest. Gatherers lurked around every corner of the residential wing and the dungeon. The only true place of safety was the Back Hall, where the small family of three had lived for years. To leave such a sanctuary would be to gamble with one's life, and the odds were always against survival.

However, Isis, like many of the castle inhabitants, knew her way around the manor. She knew which monsters could be found where, and how to avoid each one. She knew where the freshest food could be found, and where the most laudanum could be found if either of her children was sick or hurt. Someday, she had full intention of teaching them the same knowledge; but at their age, it was much too early.

"I'll be fine, sweetie." Isis smiled at Gonzales. "You know Mommy always comes back."

"I know, but…" Gonzales wiped the leakage of tears from his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about." Isis reassured Gonzales as she slowly back away, pulling her hand from her son's weak grip. "I'll be back." And with that, she turned and vanished around the corner. Her footsteps traveled up the polished marble steps, and were gone with the sound of the great doors closing behind her.

"Crybaby." Stephano smirked at his brother as soon as his mother had left. "We're old enough to be on our own, you know."

"Shut up." Gonzales pouted, blinking the rest of his tears away.

"Geez, for someone who brags so much about being the 'older brother', you sure seem to act a lot like a baby." Stephano began to tease.

"Shut up!" Gonzales swiped at his brother, but missed.

"Mommy's little ba-by! Mommy's little ba-by!" Stephano chanted as he pranced around the room.

"I'm _not_ a baby, Stephano!" Gonzales shouted, chasing his brother.

"Oh yeah?" Stephano suddenly paused underneath the staircase. "Then prove it! Let's get out Daddy's presents."

"What?!" Gonzales was shocked at his brother's daring. "Are you nuts?! You hard what Mommy said!"

"Yep, I did." Stephano grinned as he crawled into the small crevice between the stairs and the floor. From the shadows he pulled out his gift: the gleaming golden saber. He held it up to the light as best he could and watched it gleam; it was heavier than he expected. "Wow! Look at it!" He mused over his new weapon.

"Come on, put it back!" Gonzales pleaded with his sibling. "You're not allowed to play with those!"

"I'm not the only one." Stephano reached into the crevice again. "Here."

He slid Gonzales's silver blade across the floor. It came to rest right at his brother's feet. Stooping to pick it up, Gonzales couldn't help but admire his reflection in the shining blade of his sword. "Woah!" He said in amazement, lifting it as high as he could. "Cool!"

"There, we both have our swords." Stephano grinned. "Let's play!"

Gonzales almost refused, but he found himself unable to let go of the beautiful item in his hands. "What if someone sees us?" He asked, still half-mesmerized by his weapon.

"Who's going to see us?" Stephano asked. "We're alone here. Besides, it won't hurt anyone if we just play for a little bit, right?"

"I…guess so." Gonzales shrugged, struggling a bit with his weapon. "Umm…how are we supposed to play with these?"

"I don't know." Stephano said. "I guess you just swing them around…like this?"

Stephano swung his sword over his head clumsily. Unable to control it as it lowered, he gasped as he realized it was coming down on his brother. He closed his eyes tightly in preparation to hear his brother scream, but instead an opposing force against the blade halted it in midair. Opening his golden eyes, Stephano was surprised to see his brother brandishing his own sword before him, pressing the silver blade against Stephano's to stop it from injuring him.

"H-How did you do that?" Stephano asked, lower jaw hanging open.

"I…don't know." Gonzales had an identical expression on his face.

"…Let's do that again!"

Within minutes, the siblings were swinging, ducking, and dodging each other's weapons. Their weapons gradually became lighter in their hands and their maneuvers became much more agile. Their rambunctious laughter echoed throughout the Back Hall as little by little their graceful play fight migrated across the room.

Neither of the boys noticed when they passed the eerie fountain in the center of the room, or when they bumped their way through the wooden doors leading to the lower levels of the residential wing. They never even saw the changing scenery around them as they dueled down the hallway, around one corner and then another. They never even noticed when they entered one of the rooms; a large room with a long table lined with dishes and tarnished silverware. They were far too young to realize they had entered Alexander's banquet hall. Yet still, their playful duel continued.

"Take this!" Gonzales yelled as he thrust his sword at his brother.

"Ha! Missed me again!" Stephano stuck out his tongue and made a face at Gonzales.

"No fair! Why can't I ever get you?" Gonzales frowned.

"It must be because I'm better at this game than you!" Stephano laughed out loud. He suddenly acted surprised and pointed to a distant corner of the room. "Hey, look over there!"

"Wha?"

As Gonzales turned his head, Stephano jabbed the saber in his direction. Stephano felt his weapon make contact, and suddenly a loud shriek filled the room. Gonzales dropped his sword and fell to the floor, holding his shoulder and whining in pain.

"Gonzales?" Stephano asked with genuine concern for his twin. "Gonzo, you alright?"

The young boy knelt beside his brother. Gonzales moved his hand from his wound and both brothers gasped in shock. Gonzales's shoulder was beginning to bleed, much more than any part of him had before. Gonzales groaned in agony.

"Why'd you do that?" He whimpered.

"I didn't mean to!" Stephano stuttered, horrified at what he'd done. "Honest! I didn't know these things could hurt anyone!"

"Of course, that's what they're used for." A deeper voice suddenly rang from the darkness.

Stephano and Gonzales jumped back as a tall figure emerged into the light. A body covered in shining silver armor glimmered with polish, and atop a helmeted head stood a red plume of decorative feathers. Two silver eyes blinked down at the young ones from inside the grate of the helmet's face piece. The statue of the medieval suit of armor slowly raised the grate with a squeaking creak, revealing the face of a man. His skin was the same striking silver as Gonzales's, and a few thin locks of silver hair were visible from under his helmet.

"Hello boys." The man said in a charismatic, yet unsettling voice. "It's been a long time since I've seen you, hasn't it?"

The twins huddled together, drawing further away from the man. They didn't draw back very far, however. They were young, but they were old enough to understand what their mother had said about this person…but they still couldn't bring themselves to fear him completely. After all, he was Eloi; their father.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Eloi's piercing silver eyes looked over his sons, silently examining them from a distance. The corners of his mouth curled upwards into a warm, almost proud smile. Neither of the brothers knew why their father was there, but neither of them liked it. Stephano protectively stepped in front of Gonzales, whose bleeding shoulder was beginning to stain his entire sleeve red. Eloi saw the wound and took a few steps closer, forcing the siblings to back themselves against a wall.

"Here, Gonzales," He said, dropping onto one knee in front of the boys; his voice dripped with a heavy French accent. "Let me see it." Eloi offered his hand to the child who most closely resembled him, but he only shank back further.

Stephano defiantly glared at his father. He was unsure as to whether or not he and Gonzales could trust him; Eloi had been with them the first few years of their lives, and nothing had seemed wrong…but after their mother had taken the brothers to live with her in the Back Hall, all she had ever told them was how terrible of a person their father was. However, she had never told them why.

Eloi smirked at his son's distrusting look. "Mommy hasn't been saying nice things about me, has she?" He chuckled, patting Stephano on the head (something Stephano cautiously allowed). "It's alright, boys. It's just me."

Stephano heard Gonzales groan in pain behind him and was reminded of what he had done. His brother was hurt, and right now…their father was the only one who could help him. Reluctantly, Stephano stepped aside. Gonzales seemed alarmed at first, looking up at Eloi with fearful eyes, but he seemed to relax when Stephano gave him a reassuring nod. Eloi gently took Gonzales's arm in his armored hands and began to examine his child's injury.

"You're okay." Eloi declared. "There's a lot of blood, but it's nothing serious. We just need to find you a bandage."

Gonzales blinked in surprise as his father picked him up and carried him to the opposite side of the room. Stephano watched as his father sat Gonzales atop a dresser before pulling one of the drawers open. Eloi rummaged through its contents before producing a white cloth napkin, one that had originally been meant for the dinner set.

"Hold still, now." Eloi folded the napkin and tired it snugly around Gonzales's wounded shoulder until the bleeding finally stopped. "There, feel better?"

"Yes." Gonzales said softly with a nod.

Eloi picked his son up a second time. Even watching from a distance, Stephano was surprised to see how calm his brother looked in their father's arms. It was as if he'd completely forgotten what he'd been told about him, and was instead enjoying the fact his father was there. Stephano wished he could feel the same, but he was much less dependent than his twin, and couldn't shake his suspicions. As Eloi returned Gonzales to his brother, Stephano finally found enough courage to speak.

"I didn't mean to hurt him." Stephano insisted to his father. "It was an accident."

"Of course it was an accident," Eloi said. "But I'm very proud of you, Stephano. You landed your first hit."

Stephano raised an eyebrow. Eloi turned and retrieved the two swords the siblings had dropped in the center of the room. He studied each of them thoughtfully, running his fingers along the thin blades.

"I made these myself," He mused with an inert smile, looking very pleased with himself as he admired his handiwork. "Just for you boys. I wasn't sure if you'd be any good with them at your age…but you've proved me wrong."

Gonzales looked at Stephano with a confused and concerned expression, but Stephano was too enraptured by his father's words to notice. "What do you mean? Was Gonzales supposed to get hurt?" He asked, trying to warp his young mind into understanding.

"Well, that _is_ the only way a sword fight can end." Eloi chuckled, still admiring the weapons in his hands. "Either that…or someone dies."

Both of the brothers were shell-shocked. "But…but we were only playing!" Gonzales asserted.

"That may be," Eloi turned his attention back to his sons. His tone of voice was disturbingly casual for the subject he was discussing. "But you two are natural swordsmen. Since it was play, with no real harm intended, this is exactly what was expected to happen."

Stephano felt his uneasy feelings grow stronger, and Gonzales didn't appear to be comfortable either.

"I should get you back to your mother." Eloi abruptly changed the subject. "It's better we go now, before she starts looking for you. Come now."

Eloi herded his sons to the door and ushered them outside. As they walked back through the hallways they had come from, Stephano stole several glances at the golden and silver swords Eloi carried just out of reach. The simple toys his father had given him and his brother suddenly had taken on a much darker meaning. Now they were objects that were meant to hurt…or even _kill_ others; no wonder his mother had forbidden him and Gonzales to play with them.

What the young boy couldn't understand, however, was why his father would give them such gifts. He had been wary of Eloi for many years, but he had he never thought of him as someone malicious. He had never caused or wished harm to his children in the past…so why give them weapons? Stephano's eyes wandered from his own sword to the large, leather sheath hanging around his father's waist, and the heavy silver handle sticking out of it.

The trio arrived at the Back Hall within minutes. A quick look around confirmed that Isis was nowhere in sight, so the twins quickly entered. Stephano expected Eloi to drop them off at the door, but instead he followed them inside. Gonzales made himself comfortable on his blankets under the stairs, and Stephano sat next to him as their father approached.

"I really am proud of you, boys." He grinned at the twins, his silver eyes gleaming. "You both did very well for your first time handling a weapon; a few flaws here and there, but remarkable nonetheless." He looked over the two Arabian swords in his hands one last time before offering them to his children. "Why not try it a second time? I'll help you work out the little kinks in your techniques."

Alarms were beginning to go off in Stephano's mind. Gonzales had gotten hurt the last time they used those things, why would their father want them to do it again?

"What the _hell_ are _you_ doing in here?!" A livid voice echoed off the rafters.

Everyone turned to see Isis standing at the foot of the staircase, staring furiously at Eloi. She crossed the floor at a hasty pace, raising her voice at Eloi as she drew closer to him.

"I thought I told you to stay as far away from this place as Brennenburg allows." Isis came to a halt just inches away from the French suit of armor. She got in his face, baring her teeth and narrowing her golden eyes threateningly. "What in God's name do you want?" She growled.

Eloi's cool demeanor never faltered. Instead, he gave Isis a slight smirk. "I've just come to inform you that our sons' skills with the sword are quite remarkable." He said in a smooth, unphased voice. He turned to look at his sons under the stairs. "Stephano managed to land his first hit on Gonzales today."

Isis's eyes grew wide and she gasped in disbelief when she followed Eloi's gaze and saw the blood-soaked napkin around Gonzales's shoulder. She was instantly at his side, removing the crude bandage and seeing the wound for herself.

"Oh my God!" She cried. "Baby, are you alright?!"

"I'll be alright, Mommy." Gonzales insisted, a bit scared by his mother's panic. "Stephano didn't mean to do it."

"You should be very proud of them, Isis." Eloi said. "They have potential. I can train them, allow them to hone their skills and-."

Isis growled again and sprang to her feet, staring Eloi down as hard as she could. "Not another _word_!" She shrieked. "How dare you! How _dare_ you stand there and threaten to take my children from me! I'm not about to let that happen, Eloi!"

"My masters have been in need of new accomplices for some time now." Eloi calmly explained. "Ever since _you _left, Gonzales and Stephano have been in their interest. Now that they've shown promise in combat, my masters will certainly want to train them."

"I left them for a reason, Eloi!" Isis glared at her ex-lover. "The same reason I left _you_; the Barrels are nothing but trouble. They hold this entire castle hostage, and make life hell for the rest of us! I realized it when I became a mother; they're cruel, manipulative, and deceitful. Eloi, by continuing to serve them, you're no different!"

Eloi's eyes narrowed into slits, the only sign that his temper was starting to waver. "I serve my masters loyally." He said flatly. "It's my duty to cater to their every whim, and they'll want our sons to serve them."

"You can go back to your 'masters' and tell them they won't be _getting_ what they want!" Isis's eyes were practically burning with anger.

Eloi opened his mouth to say something, but paused. With a loud crash he tossed his son's swords onto the polished floor before turning to scowl at Isis again. "My masters won't be happy to hear about this." He said forebodingly.

Isis wasn't deterred from her rage. "I _refuse_ to let my sons into that kind of lifestyle!" She pointed to the door. "Now get the hell out of here!"

Eloi's expression suddenly returned to normal. He stiffly backed up, keeping his expressionless eyes locked on Isis until he touched the door. As he unlatched it and backed into the shadowy hallway beyond, he muttered something. The words reached his family, soft enough to be a mumble, yet clear enough to be perfectly understood;

"My masters _won't_ be happy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The second the door slammed shut, Isis's anger redirected itself towards her sons. Stephano and Gonzales shrank into the floor as their mother glared fiercely down at them, the gold in her eyes flashing like fire.

"What did I tell you about playing with those things?!" She raised her voice at them, her words echoing around the room again. "When I tell you two not to do something, there's a _reason_ for it!"

"We're sorry." Stephano lowered his head, not wanting to look his mother in the eye.

"You two do not _comprehend_ the amount of trouble you're in!" Isis continued in a fluster. "You deliberately disobeyed me; and now, because of it, your father wants you for…"

Isis paused suddenly, holding her head in her hands. Stephano and Gonzales looked at each other and then back at their parent, wondering to themselves if something was wrong. Small sounds came from Isis as she slowly began to sink to her knees, the adrenaline of the past few minutes finally catching up to her. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry softly, not wanting her sons to see her in such a state.

Gonzales, normally one to shy away from such emotionally charged moments, slowly stood up and tip-toed to his mother's side. He lightly tapped her on the shoulder, hoping to stir her from her depression.

"Mommy?" Gonzales piped up in a shaking voice. Isis was startled from her crying, having been oblivious of her son beside her. Her black eye paint was running down her golden cheeks in thin dark rivers. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Isis sniffled and quickly tried to regain her composure. She wiped the tears from her eyes, only smearing the dripping paint further across her face. "Nothing, sweetie." She forced a smile. "Mommy's fine."

"Are you angry at us?" Gonzales asked, bracing for the answer.

Isis gulped down the rest of her tears. Whatever anger she had felt towards her sons had been drowned out by them. "No, Mommy's not angry." She smiled half-heartedly. "How's your shoulder?" She took Gonzales's arm in her hand to examine his wound.

Gonzales shrugged. "It's better now." He said, just glad to see his mother back to her old self.

Stephano wasn't sure of what he'd witnessed when his parents had argued, but whatever it was, he wanted to know. If it was important enough to make his mother cry in front of them, it was important enough for him to know as well. "What did Daddy want us for?" He asked, almost afraid his mother would be angry at him for asking, or worse, would start crying again.

Isis looked upset at her son's question, but to Stephano's relief she didn't break down again. She was silent for a few minutes, but then motioned for her children to come closer. "Come here." She said solemnly. "There's a story a want to tell you."

Once both her children were seated comfortably at her sides, just like they were for every other story time, Isis took a very deep breath. She held it, delaying her words from coming as long as possible, until she let it out in a long, drawn-out sigh.

"A long time ago," She slowly began, carefully choosing each word just before she spoke it. "Mommy and Daddy were both part of…a very bad group of people."

"Who were they?" Gonzales asked.

"They're called the Barrels." Isis answered. "They've had the castle under their control for a very long time."

"But I thought Alexander ran the castle." Stephano raised his eyebrow, a fact he had believed all his life suddenly about to change.

"Alexander doesn't really know we're here." Isis explained. "He's really only here when a visitor comes to Brennenburg; so he's in charge of the castle, yes, but not of _us_."

Stephano didn't really understand his mother's explanation, but he nodded as if he did.

"We residents used to live quietly among ourselves," Isis continued, her eyes in a far-off stare of recollection. "Every group had their place and their purpose; the rocks, the pigs, the chairs…we all paid no mind to each other." Isis smiled down at her sons and played delicately with the thin strands of their hair that peeked out from under their hijab. "I was the only Egyptian statue around, until I had you boys."

Isis chuckled as she looked upon her sons' Egyptian features, knowing full well that they both had been speaking in their father's French accent since learning to talk. The topic at hand re-entered her thoughts, and her smile slowly dissolved. "But," She said in a monotone voice. "The Barrels, because they had the most members of any of the groups, thought they deserved to be the ones in power. They began using fear and violence to get their way, and soon all of the groups were too afraid to oppose them."

Isis checked to make sure her sons were still paying attention, then swallowed her shaking breath and continued. "Mommy joined them when she was little."

"Why?" Stephano inquired.

Isis closed her eyes tightly before opening them again. "Because…" She faltered. "She was new at the castle, and she wanted to be respected by the other residents." Isis looked each of her sons in the eye. "But, she was _wrong_!" She emphasized. "She _never_ should have gotten involved with them."

"Why?" Gonzales echoed his brother's earlier question.

Isis's eyes gleamed, as if a haze of tears were welling in them. "Because I put you boys in harm's way." She said, trying to stabilize her voice. "I left the Barrels after I had you, and now that you're both older, they want you to take my place."

Isis put her arms around her sons, a few stray tears rolling down from her eyes. She held them silently against her, assuring herself that they were still there with her. "I don't expect you to understand," She said softly. "But please promise me that you'll never pick up your swords again. No matter what Daddy tells you, no matter what _anyone_ else tells you…you won't touch them _again_."

Stephano felt his mother's tight embrace around him, and felt her body quake as she held back the urge to sob. His eyes travelled from his mother's face, down to Gonzales's bloody shoulder (the injury he had caused). He may have been lying the first time he promised to never touch the weapons his father had given him, but he had now seen the true nature behind them. He didn't want to hurt his brother; he didn't want to hurt _anyone_.

"I promise." Stephano's words were no longer empty. Deep down he swore to himself to never touch a weapon again in his life, and he had every intention in the world to keep it. On the other side of his mother, Gonzales nodded silently in agreement.

Isis let out another sigh. "Thank you, boys." She said with a bittersweet smile. She kissed each of them on the forehead as the late afternoon shadows stretched across the floor.

"Mommy…I'm tired." Gonzales peeped, gently pulling on his mother's dress to get her attention.

"I'll bet you are." Isis grinned. "You've both had…a very long day."

The statue goddess herded her sons to their blankets underneath the stairs. Cocooning themselves in the soft cotton sheets, the twins huddled together for warmth as they settled down for an early bedtime. Gonzales was careful not to lie on his bad arm. As Stephano rested his head on his brother's torso, he couldn't help but shiver from the cold tile floor against his body. The large, polished room was almost always chilly, and the thin blankets didn't provide much comfort.

Suddenly, a welcome relief covered the shivering young boy and his brother. Isis, kneeling beside her children, gently draped one of her painted wings over them; the golden feathers sheltered them from the cold, just as it had done since they were newborns. As Stephano slowly drifted into slumber, he heard his mother humming the hypnotic melody of an Egyptian lullaby, the same tune that had lulled him and Gonzales to sleep since the day they were born.


End file.
